


Protector

by morning_coffee



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Feels, Post-Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, Protectiveness, Raptor Feels, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17372987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morning_coffee/pseuds/morning_coffee
Summary: He comes out here every night, staring into the distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of blue scales and sharp yellow eyes. But if Blue's out there, she stays away, and the biggest thing Owen has ever seen in the vicinity of the farm was a mountain lion circling his Jeep.





	Protector

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrenchRoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/gifts).



The news is full of dinosaur-related stories these days, none of them good. A Mosasaurus attack at Venice Beach. A T-Rex sighting in Las Vegas, initially mistaken for a PR stunt. A trophy hunter posing with a dead Pteranodon.

Claire settles down on the couch next to Owen, the cushions shifting under him. "You're worried about Blue," she says quietly.

He tries to shrug it off. "She'll be fine. She can take care of herself."

He isn't sure whether he's trying to convince Claire or himself. Blue is one of the most dangerous things out there. She's smart and strong and resourceful, and well above humans in the food chain. But so were the rest of the raptor pack, and Blue's still the only one left – because as lethal as raptors are, they still have nothing on humans when it comes to inventing creative measures of destruction and the mindless drive to eliminate everything they don't understand.

As the night falls, Owen leans on the porch railing and looks out into the night, the sounds of the desert loud in the stillness and the stars above clearer and brighter than they could ever be in the city. He comes out here every night, staring into the distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of blue scales and sharp yellow eyes. But if Blue's out there, she stays away, and the biggest thing Owen has ever seen in the vicinity of the farm was a mountain lion circling his Jeep.

"I hope you're safe, girl," he mutters under his breath, the words swallowed by the night. 

He finishes his beer and goes back inside, ignoring Claire's knowing, sympathetic looks and the worry settling like a stone in the pit of his gut.

 

 

Turns out that for all the time Owen spent agonizing over Blue's safety, he maybe should have been a little more concerned about his own. In his defense, he genuinely thought they were flying under the radar out here, and that no one cared enough about him and Claire and Maisie to track them down after the whole mess at the Lockwood Estate. You'd think a bunch of rich assholes getting eaten after trying to profit from genetically weaponizing dinosaurs would deter anyone with similar ideas – but people have never been smart enough to recognize a bad idea even if it literally bit their heads off, just as long as there was enough money in it.

So when they come for him, all Owen can do is be grateful that Claire and Maisie are in the city for the day as he grabs a shotgun and tries to hold his own against the attackers. But there are six of them and only one of him, and even though their intent is clearly to capture rather than kill, they're not afraid to use brute force. 

Owen is sure that he got two of them, and he may or may not have injured another one enough to keep them down, but that only buys him enough time to shoot Claire a quick text warning her to stay away before he finds himself flat on his back with a bullet wound in his shoulder.

The hired gun standing above him points his weapon at him, looking like an extra in one of the worse Bond movies from the 1990s, ill-fitting suit and blank expression and all. 

The guy huffs. "Dr. Wu said you're valuable, but I'm starting to think you're more trouble than your worth," he says, sounding exactly like the clichéd evil henchman that he clearly is.

Despite the blazing pain crippling his right side, Owen can't resist a wisecrack. "You say the nicest things!"

Banter, it seems, isn't what Henchmen No. 4 came for, because instead of bickering back, he steps forward and presses the heel of his shoe against the bleeding wound in Owen's shoulder. Owen would like to say he stays stoically silent, but the truth is, he howls in pain, and the onslaught of agony makes him feel dizzy, the edges of his vision blurring and darkening. He struggles to stay conscious, but his eyes flutter shut for a moment, only opening again when he hears a shrieking sound and feels something warm and wet rain down on his face.

Henchman No. 4 is gone from his field of vision. Instead, there's Blue's curious, bird-like gaze staring down at him, sharp teeth stained red. It should be fear-inducing and horrific, but right in that moment, it's the most beautiful thing Owen has seen.

He smiles, relief making him feel giddy. "Hey, girl. You like to make an entrance, don't you?"

He gingerly pushes himself into a sitting position, cautiously raising his left hand towards Blue. She blows warm air from her nostrils before moving forward, bumping her snout against his palm with more care and gentleness than a predator of her kind should have been capable of. 

Owen's fingers slide against warm, firm scales as he takes in the surroundings, the bloody remains of six hired thugs on his front yard. It will be one hell of a mess to clean up. Claire won't be happy. 

Claire — He reaches behind for his phone, careful not to make any sudden movements that would startle Blue. The phone's screen is hopelessly cracked, and no matter how hard he presses the button, it won't switch on. Great.

Tracking down Claire and Maisie will have to wait. There are more urgent things to take care of first. Under Blue's watchful gaze, Owen stands on shaky legs. His whole body hurts and there's a rush of blood spilling from the wound at every motion. 

"Okay, I'm... gonna go inside and get this fucker out of my shoulder. You stay here. No raptors in the house."

Blue tilts her head, and Owen is about 90% sure that she understands him. At the same time, he's utterly unsurprised when she ignores him and follows him through the broken-down front door barely hanging on its hinges. Despite everything, it makes the hair at the back of his neck stand up, turning his back on a predator like that, trusting that their bond will hold despite the lack of eye contact that's the foundation of their usual communication.

He doesn't realize he's remained frozen in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room for so long until he feels a pressure at his back, Blue's head nudging him forward. 

It startles a laugh out of him, and he turns his head to send her an exasperated look. "Jesus, you're pushy. Stop mother-henning me, I'm your fucking alpha."

He'd swear that if Blue could roll her eyes at him, she would. Instead, she waits and follows his movements until he heads into the bedroom to get the first aid kit. Only then does she settle down in the kitchen, keeping watch.

 

 

It's dark outside when Owen wakes to the sound of someone calling his name. He's half-propped against the bed, and it takes a moment until his memories come back. The men who came for him. Getting shot. Blue coming to his rescue. The carnage outside. 

He must have lost consciousness after he removed the bullet from his shoulder. He winces when he sits up, just in time for Claire to come barging into the room. 

"Oh, thank God, you're alive," she says when she sees him, her voice doing that thing it does whenever she's about twenty minutes past her breaking point but holding herself together by sheer force of will.

He raises an eyebrow. "Didn't I tell you to stay away?"

It's enough to pull her out of her panic. She sends him an unimpressed look. "Seriously? You send me a barely decipherable 'don't come home' text and when I call back you don't answer, and you expect me to just — what? Not go crazy with worry and have a fun day at the mall after I dropped Maisie off at Nora's?! There are six dead people outside our house, Owen! And I get the feeling that this was the best possible outcome of whatever went down here, so excuse me if I'm not all calm and zen right now."

Owen holds up his hands in a soothing gesture he used more than once in the raptor cage. With more success, probably. 

"How did you —" he starts, but Claire finishes the question for him.

"— get past your pet raptor in the kitchen without being eaten?" She shrugs. "I don't know. I just walked by and thought 'please don't kill me' at her really hard. Maybe she's starting to like me."

It's probably a joke, but Owen thinks Claire might be onto something. Of course, it's not as simple as _liking_ Claire, but Blue probably smells Owen on her. To Blue, Claire is _pack_.

He frowns when the rest of Claire's words register. 

"Blue's not a pet," he protests.

Claire smiles faintly. "I know that and Maisie knows that, but I'm starting to doubt that you and Blue know it." She lightly places her hand against the sloppy, blood-stained bandage on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He has a hole in his shoulder and his house is wrecked, but he's alive and Claire's home with him, and Blue is okay, the worry that's been his constant companion these last few weeks finally easing. 

"I am now."

 

 

In the morning, when Owen wobbles out of the bedroom, the kitchen is empty. He surveys the damage, wondering how long it'll take until the next group of gunmen comes knocking, if the house is worth fixing. Maybe they should pack up and get away from here, but he has an inkling that no matter how far they'll run, trouble will always come find them.

When he steps outside, Blue lies curled up in a sunny spot on the porch, her tail lazily moving back and forth. Her eyes are half-closed, but that doesn't mean she's not tracking him. 

Owen cautiously steps around her. The area outside the house is still a mess of dried blood and dead bodies, but there's significantly more of the former and less of the latter now. 

"I see you started cleaning up already," he comments wryly. 

He crouches down next to Blue, taking care to telegraph his movements as he reaches out with his good arm to put his hand against her sun-warmed skin. Claire wasn't entirely wrong. He's been blurring the lines between caretaker, alpha and friend for a long time now, and he doesn't know how to stop. 

He still remembers Blue as a baby raptor, her tiny head fitting almost entirely into his palm. It's both intimidating and beautiful, how she dwarfs him now. His baby girl, all grown up. She could easily bite off his entire arm with a single snap of her mouth, but she _doesn't_ , and has saved his life more than a couple of times now.

"What d'ya say, you gonna stick around now? Help me figure out a way to keep our pack safe?" 

One smart amber eye fixes him, unblinking, and Blue releases a huff of breath against his palm. As he traces the bright markings along her neck, she cranes her head towards him, her throat vibrating under his touch when she makes a chirping sound, low and pleased.

Owen smiles at her. "Yeah, we're gonna be alright."

End


End file.
